It is fall and the air is getting thicker,

The nights are getting longer, and things not quite better.

It has been seven months since life changed,

And social life has all but waned.

At this time of year, we’d be inside with friends

Catching up while taking in the scents

Of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and ginger

The spices that fill the air in winter.

Bright lights, heavier clothes, cooler air

Yet none of this is as usual anywhere.

This is the year that the virus stole;

Perhaps it brought us face to face with our soul.

Some people use gathering as a crutch;

Others see it as two souls’ touch.

I know when we walk out the door,

And this pandemic is no more,

I will be appreciative of the grace

Of being with (and not just seeing) another’s face.

For more of my Poems on the Pandemic, click here.